


Conversations in Secret

by jetta_e_rus, Tel



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Barrayar, Gen, Translations by Tel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetta_e_rus/pseuds/jetta_e_rus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tel/pseuds/Tel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illyan and Ezar, the Emperor's watchdog. Translation of a Russian fic by jetta-e that was written for elvaron for the Winterfair Open Exchange</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations in Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Разговор за глаза](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/2191) by jetta_e_rus. 



> Thanks to jetta-e for her help with translation, and Philomytha for beta reading.
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave comments on Russian fic. They will be relayed to the author.

[Security recordings: personal office of Emperor Ezar Vorbarra. Video disabled, access forbidden by Imperial order]

Ezar: Negri, what am I supposed to make of this?

[some plastic items click as they are set on the table]

Negri: It's the report from Research, sir. The Illyrican project, Operation Mimosa.

Ezar [surprised]: Why 'Mimosa'?

Negri: From Mnemosyne, in ancient times considered...

Ezar: The goddess of memory. I know. Don't avoid the question. So, as a result of installing these untested biomechanical devices in a dozen fully-trained officers, we ended up with a handful of suicides, several psychotics, some permanent invalids, plus three who seem sane but can't remember what they ate for dinner the night before. And what else?

Negri: Subject 7 has adapted successfully to the chip.

Ezar: Well, that's comforting. So at the cost of a weapons platform they've created a young blockhead who can learn the encyclopedia by heart. I am assured that this is unreproducible. And why did we do this?

Negri[rapidly]: To test the potential benefits of installing eidectic memory chips in my intelligence agents, sir.

Ezar [angry]: You don't have benefits, you have a load of crap. You've been satisfying your curiosity at public expense and massively wasting Imperial funds. We could have built a light cruiser with the amount of money you've been spending on this nonsense. Are you looking for a demotion, Captain? [hits table]

Negri [with precision]: Don't try to dress me down, sir. I'm old enough that lieutenant's tabs will look silly on me, and your reign, Sire, will be much less solid if you try to make your Chief of Imperial Security a junior officer. In addition most of our expenditures were covered by insurance - see the financial reports in Appendix 8.

Ezar [calmer]: Well, I suppose. Do you think I'm just complaining because I'm in a bad mood and there's no-one else around? No. Your Mimosa's an utter failure. Negri, explain to me what exactly you plan to do with the consequences of your interest in high technology.

Negri: Failures happen, sir. In this case, standard procedures will be followed. For the suicides, we'll invent a story about their glorious death in battle, remove the chip before the body is returned to the family for burial, and give their dependents a pension. The madmen we'll send through the demobilization process and transfer custody to a specially-supervised section of the Imperial Military Hospital. Three are fit for service, but unable to take advantage of the chip - I'll assign them to headquarters and appoint a neurosurgeon to monitor them and develop procedures to take their chips out. The project as a whole will be shut down...

Ezar: Your department was always good at recycling. What about your lucky number 7?

Negri: I'll assign him to Galactic Affairs. As a field agent, if he shows talent at working independently... or a business analyst, if he doesn't.

Ezar: Who is this man?

[slight pause, papers rustle]

Negri: Ensign Simon Illyan. Respectable grades at Keroslavsk Military College. He first worked in Domestic Affairs, and then as a galactic agent in support positions. Moderately ambitious for a commoner - he volunteered to participate in the experiment. He has no affiliation with any language minority. Twenty-seven years old, unmarried...

Ezar [interrupting]: So, average?

Negri: Not exactly. Intelligent, but not a genius. For this experiment, we selected... well-rounded officers who were not outliers.

Ezar: Yes. I see.

[chair creaks, sound of unhurried steps]

Ezar: Hmm. There's only one man in the entire Imperium with a working eidetic memory chip. And you don't seem to know where to put him. You have no better ideas than making him an analyst or assigning him to chase some third-rate spy?

Negri [cool and formal]: He is at your disposal, Sire. We live to serve.

Ezar: Are you trying to foist the decision off on me? Coward. Not yet. I'll need to see the man myself.

Negri: You'd summon him to a formal audience?

[laughter]

Ezar: No, of course not. Do you think I'll see anything at an audience other than an officer who knows his oaths by heart and is properly wide-eyed and frightened? No, Negri. Tell your ensign that due to his new talents, next week he'll be assigned to a permanent position on my staff. Let him work here.

Negri [puzzled]: Here?

Ezar: Right here. See the table in the outer office? He'll be my personal secretary. You trained him to take accurate notes and produce abstracts, I hope?

Negri: I'm insulted. The ensign spent four months as a headquarters analyst...

Ezar [with a snort]: If I wanted to insult you, I'd demote you.

Negri [stubbornly]: ...but he's insufficiently qualified to be the Emperor's secretary.

Ezar: Don't fret. He'll be my faithful assistant who'll let in visitors and diligently make tea. I have other staff to handle scheduling, protocol, and my personal papers. Do you understand your orders, Captain?

Negri: Yes, sir.

Ezar: Well then, you can go.

[steps and the creak of the door opening]

Ezar: One more thing. Give him a promotion to lieutenant. First off, he's earned it for his bravery, and secondly, it really won't look right for my secretary to be an ensign.

*** ***

Negri: Have you decided what to do about my ens... lieutenant yet? Half of my department's moved to Komarr since then, and I have everyone working to the limit. Illyan's a young, healthy boy and it's a shame to have him sitting here shifting papers. I assigned him an extra half-hour in the gym so he doesn't get too out of shape.

Ezar [laughing]: He cuts a fine figure as it is. I like having him around, and, you know, I think I'll keep him.

Negri [somewhat appalled]: Sir!

Ezar: Sit down, don't loom over me.

[rasp of furniture on floor]

Ezar: What, Captain, do you think I'm going senile? What do you think's going through my head? Am I just having fun yanking your chain? Am I not done playing with my human vid recorder yet? Or maybe I just like to relax and ogle handsome young men. Well?

Negri [angry]: I suppose I haven't stopped beating my wife yet either. You certainly know how to ask questions. I'm not going to give up. Please tell me what you intend with my subordinate.

Ezar: Like I said, I find him attractive.

Negri: You used to have different, uh, tastes.

Ezar: And you used to have greater powers of observation. The kid, of course, is obscenely young and pathologically obsessed with regulations. He even tries to _sit_ at attention, and when he talks his face takes on this look that's frightened and expressionless at the same time. I almost have to laugh. Though I have some Ministers that also act like that around me, you know. But... despite his years, he's been able to listen, understand, and, though I can hardly believe it, even put what he's learned into practice. He's adopted some of my habits without even realizing it. Your ensign's a great mirror. Send that little idea along to the psychologists, by the way. Maybe that's why he took to the chip.

Negri [softly]: I never would have thought you vain.

Ezar [with emphasis]: Negri.

[long pause]

Ezar: I don't have much time left. Don't argue! I have a firm grip on power, but I can't outwait death. I have to die in the vague hope that my successor will keep the entire structure going and won't fuck it up too much. If I weren't sensibly an atheist I could hope to walk the halls of the palace after my death and give him some guidance, but I have to be realistic. We live while we're remembered, and this is true, damn it. I'm not talking about death offerings. This boy will take my imprint like hot wax, and that inspires me.

Negri: Philosophy isn't your style.

[laughter]

Ezar: Not philosophy, just common sense. If you accidentally create a man who's truly unique, it's ridiculous to fill his priceless mind with intelligence reports. _We_ are a much more interesting topic.

Negri: Unlike my unanalyzed reports, Sire, you're unlikely to enjoy another twenty years of gathering dust in the archives. What makes you think Serg will listen to him?

Ezar [carefully]: If things continue as they are now, we're not talking about Serg.

[a chair scrapes, papers rustle]

Negri: It... seems you've already considered alternatives.

Ezar: Yes. And I'm keeping my slate of candidates well out of sight to protect them from the Crown Prince and his allies. Vortala's absent from court due to failing health, Vorlakial is suddenly extremely busy with his military budget, Vorkosigan...

Negri: ...is cooling his hot head on Kyril Island. I see. His prosecution over that nonsense always seemed strange to me. I was surprised that he wasn't given more chances to justify his behavior during the investigation.

Ezar: Quite. Don't be jealous that I didn't involve you, there was no need for ImpSec there. This present opportunity to change history will be another matter.

Negri [tense]: Is that an order, sir?

Ezar: Not yet. Don't be hasty. I'm not going to keel over tomorrow, and the baby's too small to judge yet. And maybe a miracle will happen and my son... Eh. Five years? Ten? I'm in no hurry, you know. I want to make sure that whoever I make my grandson's regent has backup. I'll add as many threads of influence as I can, and he'll be one of them.

Negri [very carefully]: You're not planning to live on in my lieutenant's head, are you?

[laughter]

Ezar: Hah. Can you imagine that? No, I'm not trying to reincarnate myself here. He's not the right scale for the role.

[pause, and the slow tapping of fingers on the table]

Ezar: No. He won't become me or even simulate me. He'll just be a good database, for the kinds of things that aren't written in official bulletins. I've often thought it'd be useful to know what Dorca was thinking at particular key junctures... preferably not paraphrased by a well-intentioned eyewitness, either. Do you think your man can do this, Captain, or will his deference end up short-circuiting his brain?

Negri: He can.

[pause]

Negri: Though I don't see why I couldn't...

Ezar: Because you're too important a figure, Captain. A powerful and independent regent wouldn't let himself be guided by you, and I don't want a weak one. And you're not young either, no matter how you swagger.

Negri [crisp and assertive]: I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult.

[he continues in a different tone]

Negri: Yes, sir. Your orders will be obeyed.

Ezar: Then be kind enough to cancel his half-hour in the gym and schedule him for a daily briefing with the head of my guard. Let him learn.

*** ***

[prolonged yawn]

Ezar: You're asking me where Illyan is? I ordered him to go to bed and not come in for the morning shift. The man needs to sleep some time, after all. Better there than here.

Negri: He's making mistakes at work?

Ezar: Why do you think that? Hardly. He's offending my aesthetic sense. You know, Negri, on Old Earth there was a beast called a panda. I've seen it in an encyclopedia. After two weeks of sleep deprivation your lieutenant looks just like that.

[a laugh, then a cough]

[click of cabinet opening, two glasses clink on the table]

Ezar: Have a drink with me?

Negri: Just one shot. You know I shouldn't.

[glasses clink, sound of pouring]

Ezar: The real change is in his facial expression, though. Simon's definitely picked that up from you. Do you run courses on how to make that face in ImpSec?

Negri: You're in a fine mood. Do we have reason to celebrate?

Ezar [sharply]: Well, you do. I can't remove you from office, though I have good reason to. I hope you don't make the same mistake twice and try to hide more bad news about Serg from me.

[pause]

Negri: I have information that he was directly involved in the crime, but it needs to be confirmed, sir.

Ezar: Are you having it confirmed?

Negri: Yes.

[a fist hits the table, and the glasses resonate]

Ezar: If I were superstitious, I'd think his birth was jinxed. Or the problem's in the blood - but damn it all, he's Dorca's grandson, what's wrong with that bloodline? ...Hmph.

[he calms down with a few labored breaths]

Ezar: Not the best example. All right, a crown prince should already have the necessary qualities of a ruler. Why can't my son even be normal, actually normal, like... Simon?

Negri [startled]: Are you comparing my lieutenant with the Crown Prince? That seems an inherently unequal contest.

[mirthless laugh, a glass taps the table twice]

Ezar: Yeah, Serg's no match for him. And Simon's where my heart's loyalty lies. Why are you staring at me? I'm attached to him. Is that obvious?

Negri: These days, yes.

[pause]

Ezar: That obvious? Fucking hell. But it's impossible not to be. I can't look at him as the aloof Emperor, I have to reduce the distance. He understands me under the skin, but... my job has too many temptations. He's a poor commoner, naively ambitious, a third my age. Yet I enjoy his company.

Negri: As you wish, sir. I could find you another suitable officer with a good track record...

Ezar [interrupts]: Ha. Your officers are all the same - young, well-trained, handsome, frighteningly competent, and willing to die for me. All one breed.

Negri [stubbornly]: ...and even if you wish to make Illyan your pet, it should not prevent him from carrying out his part in all this. I just thought you'd passed that stage long ago. With all due respect, sir.

Ezar: Are you afraid of me tying a bow on your guard dog?

[a snort]

Ezar: And what if I do? At least I'll be able to tell him from the rest of your pack.

Negri: I think you know what you're doing. When you give a part of yourself to someone, you create kinship.

Ezar [very seriously]: Yes. Now I understand.

[Glasses clink, chairs creak, silence]

[End recording]


End file.
